


For the Bottom of My Heart

by everandanon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Christmas, Crack, Fluff, Inspired by Art, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everandanon/pseuds/everandanon
Summary: Dean knits Cas a beautiful Christmas sweater for the two of them to share - except Cas doesn'tquiteget the joke . . .
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 42
Kudos: 171





	For the Bottom of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SillyBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/gifts).



> Additional warnings: implied exclusive bottom!Cas and exclusive top!Dean in this universe, but also mention of Dean being willing to bottom (details/additional clarification about this in the notes), mild dirty talk depending on which character you believe, references to kink/roleplay (presented humorously, though no one should be embarrassed for having those kinks, details/additional clarification in the notes), as always, please let me know if I forgot anything or if you have questions!
> 
> Based on **[this](https://diminuel.tumblr.com/post/636411521925267456/december-02-dean-and-castiel-christmas-sweaters)** gorgeous Advent Calendar art by [Diminuel](https://diminuel.tumblr.com); my dumb ass simply could not resist 💖 Thank you for reading, and please enjoy!!

“. . . And you knitted this - yourself?”

“Yup,” Dean says proudly, then smirks. “Sam refused. I’ve been working on it since last Christmas.”

Cas looks down at the sweater, puzzled, though he’s certainly not disappointed. The material is _ridiculously_ soft, and novice knitter or not, the green and white embellishments are tidy, festive additions.

Overall, the design is extremely attractive, and Cas is duly impressed.

“Why did he refuse? People have commissioned more complicated things from him.” Cas pauses, then considers the timing. Sam’s Etsy business does see a fair amount of traffic this time of year. “Oh. Did he want to focus on his regular commissions?”

Dean’s eyes narrow

“Seriously?”

Cas just blinks back, tilting his head.

“I don’t understand.”

“You-“ Dean cuts off, frowning, then lifts the sweater a little higher, giving it a shake. “Dude. You’re kidding, right?”

“No?” Abruptly, Cas realizes what must be bothering him. “But - I love it. I mean, I have my doubts about navigating a holiday party in it together - particularly if we’ve been drinking - but . . . I’m excited to try it with you, anyway.”

He smiles, hoping the warmth comes through, and closes the gap between them to press a soft kiss to Dean’s lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and after an oddly still moment, Dean quickly returns it, though he looks some combination of amused and frustrated when Cas pulls back.

(Cas discreetly runs his hand along the sweater Dean’s still clutching as he does so, relishing the feel. It’s _so_ soft.)

“Uh. I - I’m really glad you like it, Cas, but . . .“ Dean pauses, biting his lip. There’s uncertainty in his face, but his eyes are still light with humor, and Cas looks back at the sweater, wondering if there’s something else he’s missing.

Although, actually-

“What side am I supposed to wear?” he asks, troubled, and Dean perks up.

He lifts his brows, but despite Cas’s sincere efforts, none of the meaning therein is conveyed.

“Dude. Come on.”

Cas squints a little harder at the sweater.

“I have to be honest, Dean. It seems a little awkward to tell the world I like receiving.”

Dean brightens, mouth splitting into a grin.

“Hey, it’s not like it matters, does it? The point is - it’s funny, right?”

He gives Cas an expectant look, and as much as Cas doesn’t want to disappoint him, thinks the sweater is beautiful and is looking forward to the sure-to-be-delightful experience of sharing it with Dean-

“Right, but - what if people take it seriously? What if they think I _only_ like receiving?” he adds meaningfully, and after a beat, the grin slips away, leaving a jarring blankness as green eyes blink back at him.

The sweater droops in Dean’s hands.

“Uh. I . . . I thought - don’t you?”

Cas feels his own face fall, hurt streaking through him.

“What?”

“It’s okay if you don’t!” Dean says quickly. “Just - then we should have been - I mean, it’s you, so even if - like, a giant burger costume, and - and ketchup play, while you pretended you were Ronald McDonald, I’d still - because it’s _you_ , so - so you know, whatever you want, you can always ask m-“

Cas holds up a hand, hurt giving way to bewilderment, and Dean immediately shuts his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says awkwardly. “It was just supposed to be a funny joke, but if it bothers you-“

“I don’t think there’s anything funny about being selfish,” Cas interrupts, deciding to just ignore the bit about Ronald McDonald. (Although - why on _earth_ would he dress up as a clown of any kind? Even if he had the inclination, they do still live with Sam, and there are enough awkward moments as it is; Cas isn’t sure he’d be forgiven if Sam walked in on such a thing). “And - you’re the most giving person I’ve ever met, Dean, and I agree that of the two of us, it makes sense for you to wear that side, but-“

Cas stops, taking a breath.

“I like to give, too. And - I try to, in the ways that I can. And I’m always happy to give more, if I know what’s wanted.”

By the time he’s finished, Dean’s expression has gone slack, and he stares at Cas for a long moment, searching.

Cas stares back, unpleasant tension in his body as he waits for a response.

He assumed Dean knew that, and maybe he does, maybe it’s honestly just a joke, but-

What if he doesn’t? What if he thinks Cas really is the one in the relationship who just . . . well, takes?

But then, slowly, Dean nods.

“When you say - giving. And - and receiving. You mean . . . giving and receiving,” he says, and Cas barely resists the temptation to throw up his hands.

“What _else_ would I mean?”

Dean’s lips press together.

“Just - you don’t want me to, uh. Pretend to be a hamburger while you - you know. Squirt ketchup into me?”

Cas blinks.

Then he frowns, shuffling closer and reaching out to put a hand on Dean’s forehead.

“Perhaps you should go lie d-“

Dean catches his hand, swiftly threading their fingers together, and while Cas is still profoundly concerned over - well, _whatever_ seems to be happening inside Dean’s head, right now, the contact is reassuring, at least.

Though perhaps it’s his own fault for having objections over a gift, especially one Dean clearly worked so hard on. Like Dean said - it’s supposed to be a joke.

“Cas,” Dean starts, the light returning to his gaze, lips quirking once more. “How about we try it on and I just show you the joke?”

Cas frowns slightly, though he moves closer, squeezing Dean’s hand.

“I understand the joke. Gift exchange is on topic for the holiday, and the concept of you being indulgent and me liking to be spoiled is meant to be amusing.”

Dean laughs, ducking his head to kiss him.

“Think you’re the more indulgent of the two of us, buddy,” he murmurs, then sighs, pulling back, his eyes crinkling warmly. “C’mon. Let’s see if it gets itchy when we start sweating.”

Cas, for his part, isn’t quite sure _why_ they would want to see that, but honestly, he’s beginning to think they’re having two different conversations at this point.

“Alright,” he agrees, still baffled, and Dean tugs him toward the hall with a sly look, leading him to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he commands, and Cas obliges, glancing over curiously as Dean does the same.

“If we’re going to have sex - do you think it’s wise to be sharing a sweater while we do it?”

He barely catches Dean’s smirk before it’s obscured by a t-shirt.

“You’ll see, sweetheart. Just wait.”

Cas just shrugs, shucking off his pants and waiting for Dean to finish undressing as well. There’s an unnecessarily pointed look as Dean peels off his socks, and Cas rolls his eyes.

“You don’t want my feet cold any more than I do, Dean.”

Dean huffs, flinging one of the offending articles toward the hamper.

“Sam knitted those for you. It’s weird.”

“And yet, you were going to have him knit the sweater we’re about to have sex in.”

“Hey, I didn’t _know_ we were gonna have sex in it.”

Cas narrows his eyes.

“Ah. But you _thought_ we would.”

Dean breaks into laughter, snatching the sweater back up.

“Dude, you’d be rubbing up against me all fucking night if we wore it. Of course I was gonna put out. Or at least _try_.”

The last part is muffled as his head disappears inside the sweater, and Cas studies him skeptically, though it's hard to suppress a smile.

“What if we end up having to wash it?”

Dean reemerges with a grin, wriggling his arm all the way through the sleeve as the sweater settles.

“Sweaters get multiple wears before they need washing, it’ll be fine.”

“I think fornicating in it without an underlayer counts as multiple wears,” Cas mutters, but there’s a staggering amount of charm in the picture Dean presents, pantsless though he may be, and Cas is more eager than not to squirm into the cozy sweater alongside him.

He does so with more difficulty than anticipated - Dean jerking away in surprised laughter when Cas’s cold, shower-damp hair tickles up his side doesn’t help - but eventually emerges through the correct hole, arm already successfully snaked through the other, and there’s hardly a moment to catch his breath before Dean’s unsleeved arm is slipping around him, tugging him into a kiss.

Cas goes easily, the sweater breathtakingly soft where it slides across his skin as Dean turns into him, and Cas decides that if it _does_ need to be washed after this, then so be it.

He embraces Dean as best he can, knit still shifting awkwardly between them, and kisses back.

He’s not sure how long passes, Dean’s tongue tangling with his, free hand stroking over his neck and jaw, but by the time there’s a hand groping his ass and a mark being sucked into the skin of his throat, he couldn’t care less about the joke or the sweater.

“Bed,” he insists, tipping his head farther as Dean’s teeth gently tug at his throat. “Dean. Bed.”

Dean squeezes a little tighter, shifting to his collarbone-

“ _Dean,_ ” he hisses, arching into him - and then pinches his shoulder.

Dean yelps, straightening, and Cas tugs him back.

“Bed,” he repeats sternly, and at last, Dean starts shuffling along with him, both hands moving to grip Cas’s ass and hoist him onto it once they get there. Cas yanks Dean down after, sweater pooling around their middles, and the moment Dean’s lower half presses down against his-

Cas groans at the friction, hooking a leg around him to keep him there.

“Fuck yeah, Cas,” Dean breathes out, bearing down a little harder as their cocks slide together, and Cas rolls his hips in encouragement, reaching up to clasp the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

Inside the sweater, Dean’s hand finds his again, lacing together and holding tight.

“Lubricant,” Cas murmurs, nosing along Dean’s jaw. Even if they do nothing more than rut together, the sweater destined for ruin where it awkwardly bunches between them, this will feel much, much better with-

“Lube,” Dean corrects him, nipping at his earlobe.

“They’re the same thing.”

“Are not. Lubricant ends in ‘can’t,’ and lube is supposed to be all about ‘can,’ isn’t it?” he reasons, grinning as he rolls to the side and reaches for the nightstand with his free arm.

“Dean.”

“What? It’s funny. It’s a double entendre. Because I could mean ‘can’ as in able, but I could also mean ‘can’ as in ass.” He pauses, giving Cas an expectant look. “Don’t you like wordplay, Cas?”

Cas just squints at him.

“Yes, you’re very clever,” he reluctantly agrees. There’s definitely something weird about it all, but his legs and abdomen feel cold without Dean sprawled over them, and honestly, he’s much more preoccupied with being touched, and _soon._

Besides, that answers the question of where they’re going with this.

“Thank you,” Dean cheerfully declares, and then he’s gently untangling his hand from Cas’s, snaking it free of the sweater so he can drizzle lube onto it. “How you doin’, Cas?”

Cas smiles slightly.

“Good. I continue to be aroused.” He rests a hand against his stomach, giving the sweater a pat. “And this is very soft, if a little hard to maneuver.”

Dean winks.

“Only the best for the person I love givin’ to.”

Cas huffs a laugh, spreading his legs a little wider to make room as Dean settles back over him.

“Up,” Dean instructs, knuckles brushing the inside of Cas’s knee, and Cas draws them up, planting his feet against the mattress as Dean’s hand keep moving, right until-

He sighs, the tip of Dean’s finger pressing against him, drawing slow, gentle circles as it coats his entrance. Dean simply watches him, pressure firming, though the generous, unhurried pace doesn’t change, and Cas shuts his eyes, perfectly content to lie back and enjoy it. He’s fallen asleep like this before, Dean’s thick, slippery fingers massaging his hole, a sweet and infinitely tolerable pleasure, but there’s something vaguely purposeful about the movement tonight, and Cas doubts Dean would let him get away with a spontaneous nap.

That finger slows, hovering against his rim, and Cas rolls his hips, just slightly.

Dean ducks his head, lips soft as they brush Cas’s.

“What do you want, Cas?” he murmurs, and Cas doesn’t answer for a moment, more interested in kissing Dean, those fingers steadily rubbing against him all the while.

“Sex,” he eventually breathes out, lips still grazing Dean’s. “I want to have sex with you.”

Dean snorts, eyes merry when he pulls back.

“Okay, Cas, sure. But - _how_?”

Cas raises a brow.

“Preferably in a way that results in orgasm?”

Dean’s lips press together, though it’s clear he’s trying not to laugh.

“Cas. Buddy. Talk to me about configuration.”

“Well, what are we doing? I assumed we’d have penetrative sex, but if you don’t think we have ti-“

Dean’s palm slides over Cas’s mouth, green eyes bright with mirth, and Cas just looks back, hoping Dean realizes exactly how unimpressed he is.

“ _How_ do you want to have penetrative sex?”

He frowns underneath Dean’s hand.

Maybe - could this be a kink? Dean once told him, rather firmly, that kinks were meant to be negotiated, but the cowboy hat had certainly not been discussed prior to the first time it appeared in the bedroom and while Cas had no strong opinions, one way or the other, he wishes Dean would try to be consistent.

“Ah fah-“ Cas scowls, then reaches for Dean’s hand, pushing it away. “I can’t talk with you covering my mouth. And I don’t know, Dean; what do you think will be the least awkward with the sweater?”

Dean looks at him for a moment.

“It’s pretty roomy in here. I’m sure it’ll be fine, no matter how you slice it.”

“Alright, then. How do you think we should slice it?”

“I _think_ you should tell me exactly what you want my body to be doing with yours.”

“Sex,” Cas repeats, pointedly wriggling against his finger. “I want your body to stimulate mine until I come.”

Dean’s brows lift.

“What about me?”

“You’re welcome to come, too, though you seem to be more interested in vague conversation, at the moment.” Cas tips his chin up, briefly kissing him. “Which is fine, but if you could multitask, I’d appreciate it.”

Dean huffs, head dropping to Cas’s shoulder.

“Cas. Please. I’m begging you.”

“You shouldn’t be. I’m not the one who’s stalling.“

Dean lets out a long-suffering sigh, warm as it ghosts over Cas’s clavicle.

“ _Dude._ What do you want me to do with my dick?”

“Uh. Put it in me?” Cas offers, incredulous, and then at last, it hits him. “Oh. I get it now.”

Dean immediately lifts his head, fixing Cas with a hopeful look.

“You do?”

Cas nods.

“You want to dirty talk. Which you should have _said_ , but since I’ve been practicing in anticipation of you wanting to try that again - I’m amenable.” Cas clears his throat, undeterred by Dean’s startled expression. “Dean,” he says lowly, beginning to slide his hand over Dean’s back in what he likes to think is a deeply sensual fashion. “You’re so hot like this, baby. I can’t wait to feel your big, thick cock wrecking my tigh-“

Dean jerks.

“Stop,” he says quickly, making a face. “Nope. Nope, there’s a reason we don’t do this. Just - say all the weird, cute shit you always do, and we’ll be good.”

Cas frowns.

He’s put a lot of effort into his studies.

“I don’t say weird, cute sh-“

Dean clears his throat.

“But that raises an excellent point!” he hastily interjects, and Cas’s protest dies as the tip of Dean’s finger slides into him.

He sucks in a breath, and Dean smiles.

“Yeah? You like this?”

“Yes?” _Obviously_ , he refrains from adding, because Dean doesn’t seem particularly interested in the obvious, tonight.

“You like me giving you my fingers?” Dean clarifies, and that finger slides deeper, too small to feel like much, but a sensation Cas nonetheless appreciates.

Still . . .

“I thought you said we weren’t dirty-talking,” he counters sullenly, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m not dirty-talking you, I’m asking questions about your preferences.”

“But you already-“

“Just answer the question, Cas.”

Cas sighs.

“Fine. Yes, Dean, I like you giving me your fingers.” He pauses, then can’t resist adding, “Though if you had any doubt, you probably shouldn’t have done it as many times as you have.”

Dean just rolls his eyes, still lightly thrusting away.

“Okay, good. And what _else_ do you like me giving you?”

Which - this absolutely counts as dirty-talking, and Cas can’t believe Dean’s trying to pretend there’s no double standard here.

He stubbornly remains silent, though he bucks up slightly as the digit crooks, sliding into him in a _particularly_ satisfying way.

Dean gives him a knowing look.

“Good?”

After a beat, Cas reluctantly inclines his head, and Dean draws out, a second finger resting against his rim.

“Want more?”

“We did agree I liked you giving me your fingers,” Cas says evenly. “Plural.”

Dean just laughs, and then his mouth is back against Cas’s, soft and sweet and clearly still smiling.

Cas relaxes.

Dean is vexing, at times, but even so-

Worth it.

That seems to be the end of the nonsense, at least, a little more hunger to his kisses, as he eases both fingers into Cas, slow, steady strokes that quicken as Cas opens around them. Cas lets his eyes fall shut as Dean’s mouth moves to his neck, a third finger tucking inside along the others, and he arches with the sensation, the sweater dragging over his sweat-slick middle as he instinctively seeks out some kind of friction.

“It’s itchy, for the record,” he informs Dean quietly, still restlessly rocking his hips, and to his frustration, Dean pauses.

“Uh. The sweater, right? The sweater’s itchy?”

“What else would be itchy?”

“I don’t know, you used a public restroom a few days ago, so-“

Cas huffs, though Dean can probably hear the smile in it.

“Yes, well, _anyway_. I think I’m ready,” he announces, turning his face to brush his lips against Dean’s ear. “If you would.”

Dean thrusts his fingers back in, spreading them slightly as he slowly withdraws.

“Yeah?” he asks breathlessly. “You want more, Cas? You want me to give you my cock?”

“I don’t see why you get to dirty-talk and I don’t,” Cas mumbles.

Dean chuckles, warm against his throat, and then pulls his hand back entirely, carefully propping up on his elbow as he fumbles for the lube, flicking the bottle open and reaching down between them.

“Yeah, well, you will,” he says cryptically, but Cas doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, too busy flinching as the cool liquid drips onto his navel.

“ _Dean_.”

“Sorry. The, uh. The sweater kinda makes things hard.”

“I _told_ you-“

Dean shushes him, the bottle clicking shut.

“Dude, you’re gonna get messy anyway.”

“But it’s going to get on the sweater, too.”

“I thought you already said we had to wash it if we fucked in it,” Dean snarks, but then he starts shifting, and a moment later, Cas feels him, the blunt head of his cock gently nudging against Cas’s hole.

He swallows, his own dick twitching where it rests against his belly.

“Fine.” He takes a deep breath, trying to move into it. “Dean?”

There’s a hum, and then carefully, Dean starts pushing inside.

Cas takes a shuddering breath, instinctively spreading his legs a little wider, and oh, _God_ , if Cas likes getting Dean’s _fingers,_ then getting this is just-

“Fuck,” Dean hisses, swiftly bottoming out, and Cas moans his agreement, hands clutching at Dean’s shoulders, inside the sweater and out.

“Please be quiet now,” he begs, and Dean simply bears down against him, stealing the breath right from his lungs in answer.

And with that, he starts moving.

He _stays_ quiet, too, nothing more than soft sounds and labored breathing as Cas reciprocates in kind, legs moving to wrap around him, to pull him deeper into every stroke. Dean kisses him throughout, the sweater an absolute nightmare between and around them, but Cas doesn’t care, just clings tight and loses himself to the rhythm of it, Dean’s mouth hot and fevered against his own, cock hard inside him as it steadily drags against Cas’s walls. It’s so _good_ , always so good with Dean, warm and solid in his arms, a delicious weight on top of him, the overwhelming slide and incomparable _fullness_ when he moves within Cas’s body, and time stops and starts and dies in fiery supernovas as existence narrows down around the feel of it.

“Close,” he eventually gasps out, body trembling, hands gripping Dean's shoulders for dear life, and Dean shifts, starts moving faster, driving into him as slow, rolling waves of pleasure turn insistent, crashing over him without bound. He chokes out a moan, twisting and bucking as Dean pins him in place, desperately fucking into him as his mouth moves over Cas's throat, traces the dip of his collar and the slope of his shoulder, nudging the sweater aside in pursuit of skin, and just when Cas can feel it truly build, right _there,_ everything spiraling together in a dizzying burst of heat and pleasure and endlessly satisfying _connection_ -

“Good, Cas?” Dean whispers, slowing. “You like it?”

“O-of course,” he stammers, restlessly trying to shift, to spur him back to that rhythm, his body disconcerted by the abrupt change. “I love it.”

“You like me giving you my fingers, and my cock, and anything else you ask me for?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” Cas mumbles, nerves a brilliant map of chaos as he struggles for completion, body pulsing around Dean and cock aching between them. “Always.”

“Yeah?” Dean’s hips stutter slightly as Cas digs his heel in, squeezing tight around him. “Then - would you - would you even say you like . . . _receiving_?”

He punctuates the question with a sharp thrust forward, balls pressing up against Cas's ass as he buries himself impossibly deep, and a moment later, his hand wraps around Cas’s cock, slick and tight as he promptly starts fisting the shaft. Cas’s whole body goes taut, spine arching almost _painfully_ as sensation explodes through him, and the question disintegrates into offensively meaningless dust inside his head as Dean withdraws and surges forward, once, twice-

He squeezes, thumb sweeping over the tip of Cas’s cock, and that - that does it.

Cas comes apart beneath him with a soft, stuttered cry, and with that, the sweater’s fate is sealed.

“Ah - Cas, Cas - _Cas_ —“ Dean groans, still stroking Cas's cock and thrusting into him, and just when Cas’s body finally begins to settle, awareness muzzy as it creeps back in, Dean shudders, hips jerking, and seconds later, Cas feels it, feels his release as it fills him, Dean spilling deep inside, and-

Abruptly, he freezes.

“Dean,” he says numbly, and Dean shudders.

“Cas,” he gasps out, halfway collapsing over him as his mouth clumsily crashes into Cas’s. “So fucking good, Cas, fuck, _so_ good-“

Which is all very nice, and normally Cas would be caught up in the heat and the endorphins and the feeling of Dean still pressed inside him, just barely thrusting through his own come as he kisses Cas within an inch of mortal existence, _however_ -

“Dean,” he repeats, disbelieving, when Dean pulls away for breath. “What did you just ask me?”

Dean blinks down at him, eyes dark and hazy, bright spots of color in his cheeks, but a few moments later-

He lights up, breaking into a grin.

“I asked,” he starts slowly, patting Cas’s stomach inside the sweater. “If you’d say you liked receiving.”

For a long, long moment, Cas just looks at him, an odd sort of blankness gathering in his mind.

And then he shoves Dean off, wholly unimpressed by both the startled yelp and the hysterical laughter that follows, and the _only_ reason he doesn’t leave the bed entirely is because somehow, despite not even having both arms in it, Cas gets trapped inside the sweater.

Still, once Dean assures him no one else is going to think that means he’s selfish . . . well, it’s not _that_ hard to talk Cas into wearing it.

After all-

He _does_ like receiving.

**Author's Note:**

> ** SPOILERS **
> 
> Top/bottom preferences: due to a misunderstanding, Dean clumsily starts to indicate that he would bottom, if that’s what Cas wanted; there is no bottom!Dean in this, and it’s strongly implied that in this universe, Cas does exclusively prefer to bottom, and Dean prefers to top. To be clear, Dean’s awkwardness at that juncture isn’t because of hangups about bottoming as a concept (as he points out to Cas, these things don’t matter); it’s about thinking his partner hasn’t been forthcoming about what is wanted, and also about genuinely just not caring for the experience, though he is perfectly comfortable with the idea of being someone who does it. As always, these are arbitrary preferences which do not reliably correspond to character/personality/height?/demeanor in conflict situations??/superficial performance behavior???/tragic backstory????/the things I've seen recently/etc, but depending on where your own preferences and/or squicks/sensitivities lie, please be advised! ♡
> 
> Kink/roleplay: There's a joke in here about a hypothetical roleplay scenario involving Cas as Ronald McDonald and Dean as a hamburger, and ensuing ketchup play; I apologize if the suggested kink/roleplay appeals to someone and the joke makes them feel badly. I think an idea can be both funny/ridiculous and sexy at the same time - context is everything - and crack like this isn’t meant to imply mockery of people who might have certain kinks. Kinks are normal (and frequently random), and the important thing is that what you actually act on is safe, mentally and physically, for all involved, and between consenting adults. If you're having fun, you're winning.


End file.
